


Native Serendipity

by ladyflowdi



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-25
Updated: 2007-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflowdi/pseuds/ladyflowdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alien mojo drugged fertility cave sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Native Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my LJ-to-AO3 project.

It seemed that, since coming to the Pegasus galaxy, anything that could happen _did_ happen with frightening regularity, so long as it included explosions of some kind, threats of decapitation, imprisonment, space bimbos, life sucking vampires, crazy natives with really sharp spears, and stoned alien sex in a rather tastefully decorated fertility cave. 

It was also possible that these things only happened to Rodney because Fate had him by the balls and hated him with an all mighty vengeance reserved for dictators, tyrants, and Carrot Top, and let him know as often as was humanly possible. 

In any other situation, the organization of the attack would have been admirable. Five stars for stealth and managing it in a loin cloth. Very savage, very chic. Not that Rodney was going to be running around in a loincloth any time soon, but one never knew when going native might be beneficial to one’s survival. He’d start doing crunches when they got home, just in case. Better to be prepared than trussed up like Christmas turkey, after all.

Point five seconds after they found a partially depleted ZedPM, _a ZedPM, an actual ZedPM, and no, Rodney hadn’t nearly creamed his pants,_ the team had been surrounded. Not even Sheppard, who claimed he could smell trouble from miles away (though how he did over all the hair products was a mystery Rodney had much better things to worry about than contemplate) detected them until they were right on top of them.

The next little while was a blur in Rodney’s memory – a sharp pain in his hip, the ground rushing up to meet him, and then darkness. 

He’d woken up to his worst nightmare. Or possibly the best erotic dream ever. Depended.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, nearly silently. “I’m really, really sorry, genuinely, which is about the only time you‘ll ever hear me say it, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Rodney, I don’t need your apology, I just need you to help me out, here.”

Rodney continued, as if he hadn’t heard. He was hyper aware of the bodies around him, the gasps and cries, the shifting of flesh on stone, the slap of flesh on flesh. “It’s like playing Carnegie Hall, and winning the Nobel Prize, and putting your hand in the last box of Cracker Jack and finding a ZedPM mounted on a spy ring, because really, human beings are dumb enough not to know an invaluable piece of technology when they see it, so the likelihood of opening a Cracker Jack box and finding a ZedPM mounted on a spy ring in the Pegasus Galaxy is infinitely higher than, say, my renouncing my Canadian citizenship and moving to Montana to fulfill my lifelong dream of being a cattle rancher.” Rodney played his scales along one quivering flank, his head pillowed on a firm shoulder so he could watch his fingertips. 

“I knew it was you. You ate the last of the Pringles too. We’ll talk about it when we get home.” John’s entire body shuddered under his. “And this is the part where you untie me so we _can_ go home. Team leader here, Rodney. The team leader you should let go now.”

“Is there any part of you that isn’t perfectly proportioned, outside of your hair?” Rodney asked, ignoring the glare John shot him. He wasn’t prone to maudlin endearments, but he couldn’t help himself when presented with John Sheppard in all his naked glory. “The ratio of hair over your skin, your nipples, which look like they’re molded from clay; I mean, that’s how perfect they are. Not a bump on them. I’ll bet if I had a ruler, they’d be exactly the same distance apart. They prickle when I lick over them, like a woman’s,” and he did, because he was unable to stop himself, and because it was really fun when John -- 

“Rodney!”

\-- squeaked just like that.

John’s shriek, drowned out by the screams of passion all around them, echoed _hurtingpainagonyecstacy._ It would have taken a stronger man than Rodney not to continue down, down, down because he was a genius, and being this smart meant he knew exactly what to do even if he had no technical experience. “I‘d say I‘m sorry again, but I don’t think that’s entirely true at this point.” John’s belly, a canvas of scars and freckles, sucked in and trembled when Rodney reached his navel and dipped his tongue in for a taste. 

It was like Christmas. Like every birthday he’d ever had, like summer vacation and the feeling he got from building something from nothing. Rodney would have gladly given up coffee for _life_ , or at least a _year_ , just to have John’s body forever, just like this.

Taut, firm hips; tense, agile legs. They reminded Rodney of Indian summer evenings, of blankets in the grass and creepy crawlies slithering into bad places and the haze of good wine and better company. Those sweet thighs were lovemaking, laughter and the big white moon. 

It couldn’t be his hands, stroking warm hips. He’d never touch John like this; he’d never shoulder between John’s legs and nuzzle a rock hard cock and full, sensitive testicles where they rested on the scoop of John’s inner most thigh. He’d never blow softly along the sweaty crevice of leg and buttock just to hear John’s breath hitch, even if the idea was first rate.

He was Canadian, for heaven’s sake. 

“Rodney!”

The snarl above surged through Rodney’s blood. It sounded muffled, as if through cotton, sleepy sounding and distant. Heat bloomed in Rodney’s chest, and he looked up along the bound length of John’s body to the huge hazel eyes, horrified and furious and aroused and a thousand other emotions. 

“Busy here.” And to prove it, he nosed crisp, black pubic hair. The smell there, heavy and sweet, reminded Rodney of long nights in the dead of Canadian winters, under thick woolen blankets and warm Fruit of the Loom sweats, where it was much too cold to get naked. Heavy, warming food, the fire crackling in a freezing room, and his piano, god, the beautiful piano he’d left in Toronto.

“The last piece I ever played was Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, by Chopin. Have you ever heard it? It’s pretentious, but I was eight. I enjoyed the finger work.” He pressed his cheek against John’s erection and splayed his fingers on John’s tense belly. “My teacher, the shrew-faced harpy, told me I had no soul for it.”

He began to play as if he were in front of that beautiful piano, the sharp black and white keys so smooth under his fingertips, and the cool pine of furniture cleaner tickling his nose. He heard the notes in his head, echoed by the loud, sobbing cries and slapping flesh of the natives. He gently played C on John’s ugliest scar. “The music is sad.” 

“Rodney, you...” John’s voice cracked and he cleared it. The hard, tanned muscles in his legs tensed and coiled, even his belly trembled under Rodney’s head. “Look, that’s great, we can talk about it when we get back to Atlantis, and to get back to Atlantis you need to untie me, so, get with the untying, okay?”

“Okay,” Rodney said, licking across John’s navel again. He politely ignored the manly squeak from above, and would have said more but a female cry interrupted him. 

On a parallel stone platform Teyla loomed over Ford’s inert body, riding pole with zeal. Unlike John, Ford didn’t seem quite so adverse to the goings on; in fact, he seemed quite up to the challenge, as it were. Teyla gave Rodney a sly smile, her hair plastered to her skin and her breasts, heavy and firm, bounced on her chest with every thrust. 

Any other time, Rodney would have found that a little odd. Not the bouncing breast thing, because well, gravity was gravity even when the objects in question seemed to defy it. The whole... sex with Ford thing. True, he was young and energetic in that raw way Teyla seemed to like, so to each their own. 

Though now that he thought about it, playing Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor on his team leader’s bare belly was a little odd, too. 

“That pain in my hip. It was a dart, wasn’t it?” He paused, rubbed his face. “Oh, of course it was a dart, they’re natives who practice sex rites in a fertility cave and wear loinclothes from animals they killed with their bare hands.” 

“No shit, Sherlock. You’ve been drugged to your fucking _eyeballs_ ,” John insisted in a voice that was at least an octave higher. “Teyla is _riding Ford’s cock_ and we’re in the middle of a fertility ritual in a _cave_ , and this is the part where you untie me so I can save us from yet untold horror since I’m the only sane one left.”

Rodney watched, watched as Teyla’s back bowed, her nails digging into Ford’s belly enough for him to roar with pleasure, their bodies shaking and shuddering. “Huh.”

John groaned, low and deep, and Rodney chanced a look up at his face to be met with an agonized portrait of hunger and need and a little bit of horror, from his slanted brows to the clench of his eyes. Hah! Not so sane, after all. 

Rodney crawled up, fingers trailing tense muscles, and fit himself carefully against John’s tied body. That firm, furious mouth with the dangerous tilt to it proved to be too much and Rodney licked those lips, again and again, kissing the edges just a little. 

“Rodney.” John inhaled stiffly, pointedly ignoring Teyla and Ford’s rutting bodies and Rodney’s mouth and pretty much everything but the back’s of his eyelids. “How bad?”

“Oh, it’s pretty bad,” he said, rubbing his lips against John’s slick skin. “Normally, I’d be–“

“Screaming about big spears and hot native death, and the sex part where we’re having it and you don’t seem at all worried about that when you’re straightish and I’m straightish and well, this is not a good time to be having this conversation,” John said, all in a rush, his furry chest heaving.

“Exactly. No way is this my usual behavior. I normally wine and dine, and you know, you’d think the natives could have just drugged their feast like the people on M40-777. It would have made the sex better, on a comfortably sated stomach.” He paused, smirking against John’s ear. 

“Before you even start, let’s keep the Kirk comments to a minimum, shall we?“ John flicked his eyes to their teammates, then slammed them shut again, as if closing his eyes would stop the image from burning on the backs of his retinas. Not that Rodney bought that crap for a flat second. Besides, Teyla and Ford were nice to look at, powerful and graceful in each thrust. “You had to go see the temple. You had to.”

“Yes, I did. And we did find a ZedPM.”

A ZedPM. The cement wall it had been buried in melted away like butter when Sheppard touched it, and usually Rodney would hate him for that, but... a _ZedPM_. A partially depleted ZedPM anyway, which had enough juice to sustain Atlantis for a year and a half, possibly even longer if they rationed shielding and exploration, and they couldn’t _do_ that until they got it home. 

“Yeah, Rodney, I know. I need you to focus. Since I am at the moment tied to a slab of rock, you’re gonna have to do some recon for me, all right?”

“Recon?” He really, _really_ loved John’s neck, who was going to flip when he saw what Rodney had done to it. For some reason, that was all the more incentive to lick across one of the darkened marks, to worry it between his teeth.

“Yes. Stop… nibbling on my neck -- dear _God_ you are never living this down, Beckett is going to _kill_ you -- and focus, all right? Do you see any weapons?”

“Yes.”

Johns eyes clenched, but that may have been because Rodney was rutting a little awkwardly against John‘s hip. “Oh, God.”

“It’s John. Focus!”

Their bodies moved together was the most gut wrenching--

“Rodney!”

“Aside from the big hulking manly natives with the big hulking manly spears, you mean?“

“Yes.”

“There’s a knife,” he mouthed into John’s ear, licking the lobe. His thigh slipped between John’s spread legs to nudge the very, very aroused heat of his cock. “Under the absolutely disgusting platform in the front of the room – have you _seen_ the top of it? Who _knows_ what these barbaric bastards know about hygiene – I mean, we could be laying on eons of fossilized semen and virgin blood for all I know.“

“Rodney!” John hissed.

“Sorry.” Rodney stroked his hand from John’s head to his cock, fondling those sensitive testicles gently as he thrust equally as gently against the firm platform of John’s hip. “Knife. It's covered in dried blood – probably sacrificial, but I’m not sure, since I had half a brain and didn’t go into the life sciences, leaving me completely inept when it comes to cultural paraphernalia.” 

“I’m going to pretend I’m not completely pissed off that you failed to mention the knife, because you’re so high I can barely see the blue of your eyes,” John choked out, right about the time Rodney took hold of his cock.

Long and thick with blood, it rested heavily in Rodney’s hand. They both looked down at it, veined and pulsing with his every heartbeat, and really, John’s cry got lost in all the ones around them so there was nothing to be embarrassed about. It felt like velvet moving through Rodney’s fingers, only much better since velvet was disgusting and gave him the worst static, so maybe not so much like velvet. More like... warm cotton sheets. Shorter than Rodney’s, but thicker; a heavier handful. Meaty, which Rodney never thought he‘d _say_ let alone _think_ in terms of anything outside a good hamburger from Rita’s Grill, but it seemed most everything going through his head was coming out his mouth, and he looked up at John with wide eyes.

John seemed to agree, and his eyes met Rodney’s, huge and satisfyingly dilated. “That may be the most disturbing thing you’ve ever said.”

Oh, and didn’t _that_ bring on a slew of beautiful mental images? Rodney had never actually sucked cock before, but how hard could it be, if the most ignorant of imbeciles could master it? All it took was a little ingenuity and courage, and well, Rodney had plenty of the former and the gogo juice had given him the latter. 

Powerless to stop himself, Rodney mouthed at the column of John’s throat, lapping there as he moved down John’s body. He tasted so good, like sweat and soap and maleness, a taste Rodney had almost forgotten existed, and all Rodney wanted to do... all he wanted was... 

“H-how...uh...how do you plan to get me over there?” John whispered. They both ignored the keening sob at the end when Rodney twisted his fingers around the sensitive head, when his mouth touched his fist and the head of John’s cock slid over his lips and into his mouth. 

Warm and thick, a little overwhelming and not at all like what he’d expected, John’s cock head rested heavily in his mouth, filling it full. Dear _God_ how women did this without choking was just another mystery to add to their arsenal.

Power. From John’s bucking hips, to his low, deep cries, John gave him power to do as he chose, to let his agile and frankly talented tongue make miracles over this, the most sensitive part of John’s body. The taste of John’s flesh, salty and sour, concentrated there in the slit that the tip of Rodney’s tongue fit in just right, made all the hair stand up on his body. It was sheer need, sharp and refined to a point where it dug into the base of Rodney’s skull and gave him an erection harder than diamonds.

And maybe it was John’s eyes, alight with pleasure, or maybe it was the tender sack of his testicles, or maybe, just maybe, it was the way his hairy belly, rounded just the smallest bit and speaking of good health and encroaching middle age, shuddered with his every suck, but Rodney couldn’t stop himself. Something fragile broke in his mind, made him gather John’s tense and rolling hips in his big hands, made him pull that long, slender body closer to himself. Made him take that first, tentative suck.

John wailed, or screamed, or something completely unmanly, but the sound was lost in the cries of passion around him. Rodney heard Teyla, and Ford, heard their moans every time his mouth lapped over John’s cock, but it too was lost in the hot red haze that was quickly going to swallow him whole if he didn’t…didn’t… 

He pressed his face to John’s belly, inhaling stiffly as John‘s cock twitched against his cheek, wet and stringy with spit and precome. His fingers convulsed on the hard length in his hand. “The only way the big hulking manly natives with big hulking manly spears there in the corner will let me untie you is if I’m turning you over to… uh, to join in sexual… ah…” 

To fuck him. To fuck John’s tight, gorgeous, firm, round ass. 

Rodney shuddered.

“Right,” and John’s voice _did_ squeak, high and tight, and any other time Rodney would have teased him into oblivion for it, but...well, he really couldn’t blame John, when Rodney’s fingers were circling his little hole. “Turning over, for… right.”

Later, Rodney would think maybe it was the way John’s body twisted as Rodney undid the ropes, muscle and sinew moving in tandem over sharp bone. Maybe it was the dusky color of his skin, or the smell of him, damp and aroused. Maybe it was the perfection of John’s ass as he turned on his front, body poised to spring.

Rodney lost himself. He went from lucidity to darkness, where there was nothing but touch and taste and pleasure. He could hear John’s grunts, his furious whispers, but the sounds were meaningless when presented with everything he’d ever wanted, _ever_ , ZedPM included. His mouth, teeth, and tongue worked over John’s back, his hips, his ass. 

Thank God John had such a muscular ass. On hands and knees his ass cheeks spread naturally, giving Rodney all the time in the world to settle in, one hand holding them parted, the other reaching around to the hard length dribbling pre-come. He ignored John’s yelping, his furious curses and whispers, and drove his mouth between the cheeks to his goal, spearing his tongue in deep and without warning. The roar of pleasure, or possibly horror, that John gave was deeply, deeply satisfying.

This, this Rodney knew. Oral fixation aside, there was something about John’s ass that tempted him – maybe because it was just so damn straight, maybe because Rodney was a good 95 percent sure that this was a new playground for John, if the squeaks coming from above were any indication. Maybe because it too was satisfying, knowing he was taking this, the last piece of John’s virginity.

Rodney sat there on too-hard stone, dizzy with delight, and it seemed most natural when someone grabbed his rock hard, soaking wet cock, slicked by something that was certainly much more effective than just spit alone. A familiar female voice was whispering in his ear, but there was nothing but sensation and need and the taste of John’s flesh, the feel of his ass clenching around his tongue even when the fingers around Rodney’s cock moved and stroked and found his undoing.

He thought maybe he came, was sure John did, but it was easier to slide into oblivion than to wonder.

\-----

John had to hand it to her. Elizabeth, God bless her stylish moppet head, had the grace to mask whatever she was thinking when they stepped through the gate in their birthday suits. Rodney, his gleaming white ass bare for all and sundry to see, swayed alarmingly on his feet, singing the Canadian national anthem with his arm looped drunkenly around John’s neck. Teyla had the good sense to be unconscious over Ford’s shoulder, which introduced John to more of Teyla’s anatomy than he was really comfortable with. And Ford himself couldn’t string two words together without stuttering into silence and blushing himself fire engine hot.

No, Elizabeth hadn’t so much as twitched an eyebrow at the smell of sex coming off of them, or the ZPM cradled under John’s free arm.

Everything kind of exploded. There was a lot of noise, none of it in English, and after five minutes of it John kind of stopped listening. He just watched as Zelenka nearly fainted dead away on the floor when Elizabeth gave him the ZPM, as Beckett started screaming so loudly his face turned a bright red and stayed that way. It was kind of interesting, in a detached sort of way. John didn’t have much chance to really experience it, because about five minutes after Beckett started speaking more Gaelic than English, Rodney decided to pass out cold and well, seeing as John was holding him up and Rodney was built like a fuckin’ linebacker, that was that.

The briefing was excruciating, as briefings went. John was sure Elizabeth had gotten the distinct impression that they’d had a drugged out orgy for a ZPM, but she wasn’t one to kick a gift horse in the mouth and hadn’t asked too many questions before letting them go on their way. Granted, they’d be seeing Heightmeyer for weeks to come, but John didn’t argue when Elizabeth was that calm with any given situation. It was just unnatural. 

John hadn’t seen Rodney move that fast since Meatloaf Surprise night at the mess.

He didn’t take off running after McKay, but it was a near thing. He had a feeling that, while John was a great tactician out in the field (and no, he had no problems with directions, thank you very much), he was seriously outmaneuvered on what amounted to Rodney’s home turf. 

Rodney just seemed to underestimate John’s patience level.

A day passed; two. John didn’t see Rodney at all, except for once when he swore he saw the man’s lab coat escaping around the corner of the chemistry labs, and even then John thought maybe he was losing his mind. In fact, an entire week passed and John hadn’t so much as heard Rodney, and well, you had to be deaf not to hear Rodney lose the fragile hold on his temper, at least twice a day. Every time he tried the labs Rodney was in the mess – when he got to the mess he’d just missed him, and when he tried Rodney’s room, he never got an answer.

And well, that was just downright rude.

Beckett cleared them for light duties, no off world missions yet but John flew the shuttle to the mainland, strangely pleased at the good hard labor of loading grains into the jumper’s storage hold. Manly labor always gave him a chance to clear his head. In fact, most of the tough decisions in his life had been thought over in this exact capacity, and just because he was a galaxy away from any lawns didn’t mean it didn’t work.

He came to the conclusion that he was dealing with a socially inept, painfully shy, awkward man with an infamous temper and complete lack of social graces, and playing this would take a skill John had in spades. And so, when he cornered McKay a week after their alien sex romp, he was sure he was ready for whatever would ultimately spew out of Rodney’s mouth, just as sure as he wasn’t leaving without clearing the air between them.

He wasn’t disappointed, which was a good thing, because if there was one thing John hated, it was disappointment.

“Unless your hair has actually achieved it’s own gravity, there’s no reason for you to be in my lab,” Rodney said, no nonsense, the moment John stepped through the doors. 

The open hostility was a refreshing change from the mortification, and John smiled, hopping up onto the edge of Rodney’s desk just to see him scowl. “Looks good, doesn’t it? Zelenka,” he nodded to the Czech staring at them from his little work space at the next table. 

Zelenka rose. Smart man. “I believe Kavanagh requires assistance with new water purifying system, as he is incompetent, etcetera, etcetera,” he said, and made his retreat, though not without Rodney burning a hole through his shoulder blades.

He closed his eyes when the door whizzed shut. “Major–“

“John.”

“Excuse me?”

John tipped his head, legs swinging. “My name is John. You’ve had your tongue up my ass, I think we can forego the titles, right Dr. McKay?”

John had never actually seen that color on a person’s face before. It looked kind of painful, and hazardous to one’s health. “God.”

“No, John. Though I _have_ been called “God” before, but that was in a naked and horizontal capacity,” he said, enjoying the strangled choke that came out of Rodney’s throat. It was kind of fun. And mean. But mostly fun. “I’m gonna pretend you haven’t been avoiding me. Wanna get something to eat?”

Rodney stared at him. “You’ve lost your mind. That’s what this is all about. You’ve completely lost your marbles.” He rose, that old McKay anger in his eyes. John felt his groin tighten in anticipation. “We just spent the last _week_ coming off of alien gogo juice,” Rodney hissed, poking him in the chest with a single finger, “A week where I’ve been tearing myself apart thinking I assaulted you, and you... you…”

“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “Assaulted? Rodney, no, that implies a penis and unwanted sexual advances, and I specifically remember your tongue and my very hard erection.” When all that got was a stare, John hopped down from the table and prowled closer. Rodney had no choice but to back up, and oh, yeah, this was fun. Still mean, but getting funner by the second. “Don’t try and twist this around, because it isn’t going to work. Points for effort, though.”

Rodney’s blue eyes widened. He looked like a caged animal. “You’re not even gay, and I stuck my...” He went from sheet white to red. “This isn’t an appropriate conversation.”

“Why, because we’re talking about gay sex?” And _there_ was the Canada in Rodney. Sometimes John forgot this was the man lurking beyond Rodney’s exceptional temper, but when he came out, he was downright cute, in a grumpy grizzly bear way. Not that saying that to Rodney’s face was conducive to future health, of course. “We didn’t exactly have gay sex, Rodney. You passed out before we got to that part.”

“Oh God,” Rodney said, backing up right into Zelenka’s desk. He sidestepped it, arms crossing over his chest and chin coming up. “I was under the influence. You can’t hold anything against me while I was without my proper faculties.”

“Hate to break it to you, but your normal self isn’t as much fun as the sex kitten, though I think that’s because you haven’t had enough of a chance to let him out,” John said, delighted when that got a choked croak. 

“You’re completely... you’re sick. That’s what this is. I’ll call Beckett and–“ He stopped.

John was wondering when Rodney would realize his comm was way over on the other side of the room.

He took another two steps closer, forcing Rodney closer to the wall. “You try to get around me, and I’m gonna catch you. You stay put, and I’m still going to catch you. Your choices are few and far between. What’s it going to be, Rodney?”

John didn’t get a chance to say another word, and oh, there was a lot he wanted to say. Rodney feinted left, then right, and John had to hand it to him, the bastard had taken all of John’s lessons and flew with them. In this case, almost literally. It just so happened that John was faster, and Rodney only made it to the middle of the room before John tackled him.

Rodney had no choice but to hit the wall and well, that just gave John the chance to press in against Rodney’s back. He was so hot, so hard. John nestled in real close, so Rodney could feel the party currently going on in John’s shorts. “Considering it’s been a week since we were exposed, I’m gonna go ahead and say that it isn’t drugs, Rodney.” He caught Rodney’s wrists and pinned them above the mans head.

Rodney, God bless him, actually squeaked. It did wonders for John’s ego. “You’re not gay. You’re not! You’re Captain Kirk, with the hair and the charm and various other attributes,” he hissed, struggling against John’s hands. “Let me go!”

“No,” John said, squeezing hard and yanking Rodney around so they were face to face, eye to eye, cock to cock. “You’re going to listen to me, for once in your damn life.” 

It was different, this. Women were generally petite and not as strong as him, weren’t usually so tall so as to look him straight in the eye. Women usually didn’t have the darkened shadow of a shaved face and neck, but then again, they didn’t usually have an erection pressing into his thigh, either. Women didn’t look like Rodney in this moment, pissed and turned on and furious and embarrassed, his eyes lightning blue and his mouth set. Everything about this, from the square jaw to the heavy brows to the short hair with the widow’s peaks, spoke of _man_. Even the smell of him, like soap and sweat and after shave, turned John on. In fact, it was one of the most erotic moments of John’s life, holding Rodney just. Like. This.

“No, I’m not gay,” he began, and tightened his grip on Rodney’s wrists when they fisted, knocking Rodney’s body against the wall with his hips. That certainly caught the mans attention, if the pained gasp of pleasure was anything to go by. “But I’m not straight either. Straightish, is what I call it. Haven’t thought about a man since I joined the Academy, but let’s just say that being tied up and thoroughly seduced by a geek does things to a guy. Having that geek play scales on your stomach, nuzzle against your groin and stick his tongue where no sane person would stick their tongue just to make you feel good kind of changes your mind about things.” He knocked Rodney’s hips against the wall again, his eyes narrowing with pleasure as Rodney hissed for the both of them.

“So, we’ve come to a crossroads,” he continued, squeezing Rodney’s wrists when they struggled against his, when that mouth opened and, well, John had to stick his tongue in it. Who knew Rodney could kiss like this, anyway, sweet and rough and kind of heavy, the perfect seduction of teeth and lips and tongue? “I figure there are two things we can do,” he whispered, as he mouthed Rodney’s red lips, bruised and open and trembling. “We can forget this ever happened and go back to being friends.”

His hands slipped down Rodney’s long arms, down his elbows and arm pits and finally to his heaving chest, where he tweaked gently at twin peaked nipples. Rodney’s arms stayed against the wall, exactly where John had left them, weak and shivering. Oh yeah. _Wonders_ for John‘s ego. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? “Or, we can have sex with each other, and see where it takes us.”

Rodney’s breath exploded from him, his eyes clenched, and he said, stiffly, “You’ve lost your mind.”

John’s lips curved against Rodney’s neck. “I like to think so. So? What’ll it be, Rodney?”

“It’s not as easy as that!” He hissed, as his throat arched up for John’s mouth. “We live in a closed society where we have to work together. You’re straight, you can’t _help_ it, and one day some native woman with huge breasts and a come hither smile is going to seduce you, and where will that leave me?” 

“I don’t know. Where will that leave you?” John asked, laving Rodney’s earlobe.

“It’ll leave me...” and Rodney’s voice hitched. Sensitive ears. Mmm.

“Where will it leave you, Rodney?” John demanded, grabbing hold of Rodney’s hips. 

“I’ll be upset, alright? I don’t work well with heartache, and who knows when Atlantis will need my genius? I can’t afford to mope when peoples lives are on the line!”

Heartache. That implied something more than casual sex, and John... John couldn’t help the smile that split his face apart. At least till Rodney tried to knee him in the groin, but John was too good for that. He caught the knee and brought it up to wrap tight around his thigh, so that even through their clothes, their cocks met. It was like lightning went off behind his eyes, and if Rodney’s answering moan said anything, well, it was this was a Damned Good Thing. “You saying you have feelings for me, Rodney?”

Rodney’s eyes closed, his body bowed into John’s slow, even thrusts. When he spoke, it was strangled. “I’m saying you don’t need any more fuel for your ego, you son of a bitch.”

John laughed out loud, and suddenly he saw the next ten years of his life. Sex and friendship, arguments and passion and all those mushy things John never really was that good at talking about. And it was okay, because with Rodney you never really had to say it -- the man was so smart he usually figured it out by himself. He saw himself walking through his life with Rodney, and suddenly all they’d experienced together in this hell hole of a galaxy made perfect sense, because fate didn’t like him to begin with and it made sense that he’d have to work his ass off to get what he wanted.

Literally speaking.

And the funniest part was, it didn’t scare him as much as it should have.


End file.
